


Nothing to fear.

by Waxwing



Category: Tanz der Vampire - Steinman/Kunze
Genre: Character Death, Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2018-03-18 06:18:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3559238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waxwing/pseuds/Waxwing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having just barely survived the events of the musical, Alfred is faced with a difficult choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Herbert knows better than to do THAT without permission.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not even sure anyone still reads slash for this fandom, it's certainly been a while since anyone's written any, but I recently joined a Vampire the Masquerade group and have been working on developing my character and one of my influences is Herbert so I thought writing a story with him in it would help me get into the right head space. Plus, spring is just starting here and for some reason spring always gets me thinking about vampires. 
> 
> p.s. The rating is for later chapters.

In retrospect, it was idiotic of him to think that they could possibly succeed. After all, what were an incompetent coward and a senile old man (may he rest in peace) against immortal creatures of the night? He supposes when all is said and done it’s mostly his fault. The professor didn’t know any better, had not been in any condition to know better for quite some time frankly. It was Alfred’s job to put his foot down, he should have refused to go to the castle and stopped the professor from going...somehow. After all, they’d only gone to save Sarah and it had turned out Sarah didn’t want to be saved. He should have realized that sooner too, she hadn’t ever even seemed afraid. 

In fact right up until Sarah’s fangs had sank into his throat he had been in awe of his own good luck. He’d faced untold danger and...temptation and emerged victorious and now he was riding off into the sunset (well...sunrise) with the innocent maiden that he had rescued. It was like something in a story book. Just as he was thinking that maybe he really WAS a hero, maybe things like this DID happen to him, he’d felt the most incredibly pain of his life. The professor had tried to pry Sarah off of him and been rewarded for his efforts with being viciously mauled to death. Alfred had only been able to lie there clutching at his gaping neck wound and watch as Sarah drained the old man dry and then stepped over his body on her way back to the castle. In the back of his mind he’d felt some reproach at the fact that she hadn’t even bothered to drink HIS blood. 

He had summoned the last of his rapidly dwindling strength to crawl over to the professors body. It had been his intention to check for a pulse but once he got there he saw that there was so little left of the professor’s throat that his head was just barely attached. Shock and grief overwhelming him, he clung to the body and began to cry. This was it, he told himself, this was how it was going to end. Just as blackness was about to claim him, he felt himself being lifted by two cold, strong arms. 

When he wakes he can’t see anything but he’s not cold anymore. He touches his face and finds that his eyes aren’t covered then trails his hand down to his neck to find it’s been wrapped with a strip of cloth. The weight of a heavy quilt on top of him and the softness of the surface upon which he lays tells him he’s in a bed. Having surmised what he can without moving, he summons all his courage and reaches out into the pitch black darkness. He had to sit up and lean very far to the right to feel anything but when he did his hand was met with a velvet curtain. As he gets to his knees to look for an opening in the curtain he hears a metallic rattling and notices how much harder it is to move his left leg than his right. He reaches down to his left ankle and finds a shackle there. 

“Hello libeling.” Just as Alfred was beginning to realize where he is Herbert pulls the curtain aside and his suspicions are confirmed. “I was beginning to think that you’d never wake up.” 

Alfred’s blood freezes and he begins to struggle against the chain despite knowing it won’t do any good. 

“Terribly sorry about that.” Herbert glances down at the chain and smirks. “It’s just that the sun was coming up and it wouldn’t have done to have you wander off while I was asleep.” 

Herbert rounds the bed, tying back the curtains as he goes, before coming to sit beside Alfred. Alfred tries to scramble to the other side of the bed but the chain only lets him go so far. Herbert lays a hand on his forehead in an uncomfortably maternal gesture and Alfred reflexively flinches away. 

“What are you going to do to me?” He blurts out, his body beginning to tremble. 

“Relax.” Herbert giggles. “Do you think I’d have brought you all the way back here just to kill you? If that was what I wanted, I’d have finished the job out in the snow.” 

This does nothing to assuage Alfred's anxiety, primarily because death is not the only thing he’s afraid of in this particular situation. 

“Please let me go.” Alfred tries not to sound afraid but the tremor in his voice gives him away. 

“Vati says I can’t.” Herbert shrugs, not sounding particularly sorry. “He actually thought that I should have left you where I found you but I promised that if he let me keep you I wouldn't let you make a nuisance of yourself.” 

“Keep me?” Alfred’s eyes go wide but Herbert only nods and grins in response. “You’re just going to...keep me in this room?” 

“For the time being at least, some of the guests from the ball are still lingering around so you wouldn't be safe roaming the castle. Vati also thinks it for the best if Sarah doesn’t know you’re here, I mean, she already has SO much to adjust to and really if you don’t say yes then as far as she’s concerned you may as well be dead.” 

“Say...yes?” 

“Oh but I’m getting ahead of myself!” Herbert laughs and places a hand on his chest in a gesture of self deprecation. “You see, vati has given me permission to...bring you into our family.” When he says the last part his voice grows suddenly softer and his smile turns coy. Alfred looks at the pearly white daggers in his mouth and starts to feel sick. 

“Please no.” It comes out as a pathetic whimper and Herbert’s face transforms into a mask of reproach. 

“Well of course I won’t do it if you don’t want me to.” 

“You won’t?” Alfred is genuinely surprised. 

“No. Vati taught me better than to do that without permission.” 

“What happens if I say no?” Alfred asks hesitantly. 

“Well...then our time together will be sadly short.” 

“But you’re just going to...keep me here until...” Alfred can’t bring himself to finish the question but Herbert seems to take his meaning. 

“Vati says that if we let you go you could make trouble for us.” 

“How on earth could I make trouble for YOU?” 

“I’m sure I have no idea.” Herbert shrugs again. “Vati pays more attention to that sort of thing than I do. There’s no need to make the decision now anyway, you can think about it as long as you like...or, rather, for as long as you have.” 

Herbert rises gracefully from the bed and pours some liquid out of a pitcher on the table beside the bed and holds it out to Alfred. Alfred doesn’t even move to take it. 

“It’s water.” Herbert explains. “I thought you’d be thirsty so I had Koukol fetch it for you from a stream near by.” 

Alfred actually is thirsty, the inside of his mouth feels like leather, so he forces himself to reach out a shaking hand and take the glass. As he gulps it down Herbert’s smile widens, he seems incredibly pleased with himself. As soon as Alfred finishes the glass the vampire immediately takes it from him and refills it. 

“We do have a well on the premises.” Herbert goes on conversationally. “I remember drinking from it when I was little but vati says it’s probably not safe any more.” 

“So I’m just supposed to stay in this room...” 

“Just until all the guests have left.” Something seems to dawn on Herbert then and he gasps excitedly and covers his mouth. “Oh, then I can show you the library and the greenhouse and the music room and the crypt where I sleep!” 

Alfred feels himself go pale but tries to calm down, even he can see that his only chance at making it out of this is to keep Herbert on his side. He swallows hard and takes a deep breath and when he speaks again the quaver in his voice is at least slightly lessened. 

“There’s a greenhouse?” It’s all he can think to say to keep the conversation going and he’s sure he wants to keep the conversation going. If Herbert is talking he can’t do...other things with his mouth. 

“There is! Koukol isn't much of a gardener so it’s mostly weeds and ivy but there’s some lovely night blooming jasmine and it’s just the perfect place for stargazing.” Herbert places a hand on top of Alfred’s and then looks concerned. “You’re trembling liebchen. Are you cold?” 

“Yes.” Alfred says quickly and it’s not entirely a lie. 

“Well, luckily I’ve drawn you a bath.” 

“A bath?” Alfred’s face is suddenly hot. 

“I thought you’d like to wash that off.” Herbert points at his chest and Alfred looks down to see that the front of his shirt is still caked with blood, it’s congealed and turned a rusty color by now. “I think most of it is from the old man.” 

“Did you just...leave him out there?” 

“Well, what was left of him, yes.” Hebert makes it sound as though it were a given and that makes the sinking feeling in the pit of Alfred’s stomach worse. Tears threaten in his eyes, he reaches up quickly to wipe them away but Herbert still sees. 

“Don’t be sad mon cheri!” Herbert looks a mix of worried and confused. “It’s probably only took him seconds to die and...well, I mean, you’d probably have wound up watching him die at some point any way...that’s what old humans do isn’t it?” 

It’s at this point that Alfred begins to suspect that Herbert isn’t all there, even by vampire standards. He’s genuinely at a loss as to how to explain normal human grief to someone who seems so thoroughly unfamiliar with the concept. Luckily he doesn’t get the chance to try as Herbert seems incapable of staying silent for more than a few seconds at a time. 

“Come liebchen, you’ll feel better when you’re clean.” He extends his hand to Alfred to help him up from the bed. Alfred only nods down at his ankle, Herbert follows his gaze and then laughs. The vampire produces a gold key on a chain from beneath the voluminous ruffles of his shirt and then sits down at the end of the bed and undoes Alfred’s shackle. Alfred is then pulled up from the bed and into the adjoining bathroom so quickly his head spins. When his knees buckle, Herbert catches him without missing a beat. 

“Let me help.” The vampire purrs and begins to unbutton Alfred’s shirt. 

“I...I...I’d rather do it myself!” Alfred staggers back. 

“You’re shy?” Herbert smirks. 

“Yes.” 

“You know you’ve absolutely no reason to be.” Herbert advances on him and for a moment he expects to be forcibly undressed but then the vampire places a surprisingly chased kiss on his forehead. “I’ll wait in the other room...don’t be too long.” 

Once alone, Alfred has a minor panic attack. He sinks slowly to his knees and wraps his arms tight around himself and spends several minutes gasping for air and waiting for his body to stop shaking. “What-do-I-do? What-do-I-do? What-do-I-do?!” repeats over and over again in his head and the only answer he can come up with is “RUN!” He hates that that’s the only answer he can ever come up with, especially in this instance as there’s no where to run. There are no windows in the room and there’s only one door. That’s probably the only reason why Herbert was willing to leave him alone in here. 

Once he no longer feels as though his chest might collapse in on itself, he hesitantly stands. His first instinct is to see if there’s a lock on the door, he’s disappointed to find that there isn't even though he knows it’d have done nothing to keep the vampire out. As he turns back he’s startled by the site of his own reflection in the mirror that covers the entire wall opposite the door. He looks like something that’s been left to rot in a ditch, his skin sallow and colorless and his eyes bloodshot. There’s a lavender ribbon tied around his neck over the bandage and the pop of color just makes him look more grim by comparison. 

He reaches up and snatches the ribbon off, dropping it on the floor as though it had burned him. There’s a rusty blotch on the bandage and, looking at it, he suddenly NEEDS to see the wound. Possessed by a frighteningly intense determinations, he peels back layer upon layer of linen until his neck is exposed. There’s something almost ridiculous about the wound, how perfectly you can see where each individual tooth pierced the skin. A desperate part of his mind thinks that real bite marks don’t look like that (even though he has no way of knowing) and futilely tries to convince him that this isn’t actually happening, that he’s either at home in his bed dreaming or hallucinating while dying out in the snow where Sarah left him. Ether would be preferable. 

For a moment giddiness overtakes him and he laughs but covers his mouth before the sound actually leaves his lips. Only a mad man would laugh in this situation and he IS NOT mad, he may be a coward but by god he’s a sane coward. He slowly disrobes, partly because it gives him something to focus on but mostly because he has a lot of bruises and every muscle in his body for some reason aches. Avoiding looking at his own naked body in the mirror, he makes his way over to the tub. It occurs to him as he lowers himself into the water that the steam rising from the tub smells like a mix of lilacs and vanilla...Herbert’s scent except without the almost subliminal undercurrent of dead leaves and old paper (which Alfred has learned by now is the way a vampire naturally smells.) 

The first thing Alfred does is very carefully clean his neck, god forbid he should remove too much of the scab and start it bleeding again. By the time he’s done cleaning himself the water in the tub is tinted red and the realization that he’s essentially bathing in a mixture of his and the professors blood has him simultaneously overwhelmed by grief and nausea. He bolts up out of the tub and begins frantically wiping at himself with a towel, suddenly desperate to get the dirty water off of his body. It’s then that he catches sight of something in the mirror that nearly gives him hope, it’s his suitcase. Of course he’d had not opportunity to go back to his room for it before he and the professor had fled and Herbert must have brought it here assuming he’d need it. 

The vague hope quickly fades when he actually opens it and realizes that his crucifix, garlic tincture and wooden stake have all been removed. Of course, he thinks, Herbert would have ensure there was nothing in it that Alfred could use to harm him before giving it back to him. The vampire may not be all there but he’s certainly not stupid. Alfred takes what comfort he can in the knowledge that he’ll at least be able to wear his own clothes and that his journal has been left untouched. Though he’d have no way of knowing for sure if Herbert has read it but he chooses to believe he hasn't. There’s some things in that book that he’d never want any sentient being to read that he’s sure would make Herbert very, very happy. 

He gets dressed and then wishes he’d taken more time getting dressed because now all there is to do is go back into the bedroom where Herbert is waiting for him. He pretends to be concerned about his hair, even though he’s not sure for whom exactly he’s pretending. The best he can do is run his fingers through it and tousle it in an effort to get it to dry faster. There’s an assortment of admittedly beautiful combs and brushes laid out on a table along the wall to his left but he refuses to use them. Something about sharing grooming products feels uncomfortably intimate and it’s more than enough that he smells like Herbert now. 

When it’s gotten to a point that he’s sure Herbert it growing impatient, he has to gather all of his resolve before he can even touch the door handle. He tells himself that at least for the moment he’s not going to die (deliberately ignoring the fact that he has no idea rather or not vampires are known for keeping their word) and mentally clings to that small blessing as he opens the door. He expects to find Herbert literally right outside the door but instead finds the vampire sitting cross legged in the center of the bed idly flipping through a book. There’s something off about the whole thing, Herbert doesn’t strike him as the sort who reads for pleasure, but then he sees the bite mark on the cover and realizes which book it is. Herbert looks up as Alfred enters the room and smiles, Alfred wishes he wouldn't do that so much as the site of those fangs makes his stomach turn every time. Still he supposes a happy vampire is less dangerous than an angry one. 

“Isn't that better?” Herbert asks as he rises from the bed. He follows Alfred’s gaze to the book in his hand and then holds it out to Alfred. “I thought you might want to finish this.” 

Alfred takes the book but only stares at it dumbly, running his thumb over the indents from Herbert’s teeth. 

“Of course I can get you others if you like.” Herbert goes on, seemingly un-phased by Alfred’s lack of response. “Just to tide you over until I can actually take you to the library.” 

“Are there still a lot of other vampires in the castle?” Alfred feels himself beginning to panic again. 

“Don’t worry, they all know better than to come into my room uninvited.” 

“If you sleep in a crypt, why do you need a room?” 

“Well, I need somewhere to receive gentleman callers.” Herbert looks directly into Alfred’s eyes and Alfred feels himself blush. He tries to back up and feels the backs of his knees hit the bed, not having any idea when he got so close to it. Herbert places a hand on his chest and pushes him down until he’s sitting. Surprisingly, Herbert only sits down next to him, all be it uncomfortably close. 

“I’ll be here with you as often as I possibly can.” Herbert purrs, gently raking his claws through Alfred’s hair. “It’s just going to be a challenge over the next few nights to divide myself between you and Magda.” 

“Magda?” The name is familiar to Alfred but he can’t remember from where. 

“She said you and her had met back at the inn.” 

All at once Alfred remembers the brassy servant girl with the strawberry blonde curls and the...freckles. 

“How did she even find her way up here?” 

“I don’t know.” Herbert shrugs casually, trails his fingers from Alfred’s hair down to the back of his neck. “All I know is that vati told me to take her under my wing. She’s a LOVELY girl, I’m sure you and her will get along famously.” 

Alfred once again finds himself at a loss for words and Herbert misinterprets his silence. 

“Don’t be jealous Mon Cheri!” Herbert reaches over and intertwines the fingers of his left hand with those of Alfred’s right. “You’re my first priority, I just felt it was only fair let you know that if you say yes you won’t be the only fledgling in my care...you’ll have a big sister. Won’t that be nice?” 

Just then Alfred realizes the intimate position Herber’s maneuvered them into and pulls away, Herbert lets him. As an excuse to get off of the bed, he goes to retrieve the book off the floor where he hadn’t realized he’d dropped it. He then walks over to the window and draws back the curtain. The moonlight reflecting off the snow makes the night almost as bright as day so Alfred can clearly see the sprawling graveyard below and beyond that the inky black, foreboding mass of the forest. There are people in the graveyard (not people, he reminds himself, VAMPIRES), some of them darting around, chasing each other, like children playing tag. There is something about seeing them act so playful that disturbs Alfred more than any display of aggression could. He jumps at the feel of a cold hand on top of his and glances to his left to see that Herbert has come to stand beside him. 

“You've nothing to fear as long as you’re with me.” Herbert says, his voice a near whisper. “And if you decide to stay with us, I’ll do my best to ensure that you never have anything to fear again. I’ve been waiting for you, you know, for a very long time.” 

Alfred’s initial impulse is to ask how Herbert could possibly have been waiting for someone he didn’t even know but when he turns to look at the vampire there’s something so...vulnerable in his expression that Alfred can’t bring himself to say it. When Herbert leans in and kisses him, a simple press of lips on lips, Alfred shivers and to his horror it’s not entirely from fear.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Herbert and Alfred take a walk.

Alfred is kept in that one room for four nights. He measures time in nights now because every sunrise Herbert gives him a sedative and chains him to the bed before heading off to his own crypt to sleep. Herbert spends about half of each night with him, chattering away the whole time while still somehow managing to not give him any important information, and presumably spends the other half with Magda. 

By the end of the fourth night he’s accomplished two things in addition to no longer being terrified by Herbert’s mere presence (which he suspects was the intended result of Herbert’s decision to keep him in his own room.) The first of them being finishing the book Herbert brought him, it’s a collection of very saccharine love poetry the likes of which he’d usually find incredibly dull but under the circumstances is oddly soothing. The second of them being learning that the Graf only tells Herbert things when it’s absolutely necessary that he know them and that Herbert does not seem at all bothered by this. He’s also learned that Herbert takes a bath EVERY SINGLE night...in the bathroom connected to the room he’s trapped in. It’s only fair, he supposes, since it IS Herbert’s room. 

While Herbert is in there bathing Alfred usually sits in a chair near the window (as far as possible from the bathroom) reading and trying very hard not to think about the fact that the vampire is naked right on the other side of the door. He doesn’t know why it’s so hard for him not to think about it but it does seem that when Herbert’s around he has trouble focusing on anything else. At first he’d chalked it up to fear but now that he’s fairly certain Herbert won’t be drinking his blood any time soon he finds it harder to write off. He finds himself remembering what the professor told him about vampires having the ability to entrance mortals and he thinks that that MUST be it. There’s no other explanation. Herbert is positively jubilant when he comes to wake Alfred on the fifth night. 

“Do you fancy a walk in the cemetery?” Hebert asks before Alfred is even fully awake, his effort at seeming nonchalant foiled by the fact that he’s grinning from ear to ear. “The others have gone so it should be quite safe now.” 

“What’s in the cemetery?” Alfred tries to sound as though he’s simply curious despite the tremor that Herbert’s smile still evokes in him and the fact that he’s always had an aversion to anywhere where large quantities of dead bodies can be found. 

“You’ll have to wait and see.” Herbert giggles, clearly having no idea how eerie the entire exchange has been. He sits at the edge of the bed and undoes Alfred’s shackle. As soon as Alfred is able, he slides across the bed and gets out on the other side, putting the piece of furniture between himself and the vampire. Herbert lays down on his side in the space that Alfred had occupied, propping himself up on an elbow. 

“One would think you’d be happy just to get out of this room.” He says, glancing up at Alfred in a playfully contentious way. 

“I am.” Alfred says quickly, not wanting to give his flirtatious jailer any excuse to extend his solitary confinement. 

“Well then run along.” Herbert gestures to the bathroom and Alfred makes haste to go and change. He doesn’t dawdle, as his eagerness to get outside is stronger than his desire to be out from under the vampire’s gaze. When he emerges back into the bedroom Herbert is in the wardrobe, he takes out Alfred’s red coat and hands it to him then removes his own long lavender cloak. As he’s fastening the clasp at his throat, Alfred’s eyes are drawn to the fluttering of long nailed fingers and then to a bite mark on the side of Herbert’s neck. Of course, Herbert catches him looking. 

“It’s from Magda.” 

“She...bit you?” 

“I LET her bite me, yes.” Confusion must have shown in Alfred’s face because Herbert smiles gently and elaborates. “She can’t be trusted around warm people yet, so it’s better that I go feed and then let her feed from me.” 

“...is that normal?” Alfred feels the color drain from his face. 

“It’s what vati did for me...” Herbert says casually as he reaches up to button Alfred’s coat. “and what I’ll do for you.” 

“Only if...” 

“Of course.” Herbert cuts Alfred off, hands migrating to Alfred’s collar to smooth it down. “If only.” 

Alfred steps back, running his hands over the front of his coat as though he can brush off Herbert’s touch. Herbert doesn’t seem offended, he never does, and turns to open the door for Alfred. Alfred walks out ahead of him tentatively and waits until Herbert is beside him before he continues down the hallway (mostly because he has no idea where he’s going.) Herbert walks ahead of Alfred but lags enough that Alfred doesn’t have trouble keeping up with his long legged strides. Alfred briefly wonders if this is out of courtesy or caution but decides that, with Herbert, it could be both. He follows the vampire down a series of narrow passages that would only be used by servants if the castle were in good working order and eventually come to a small metal door that opens out into the back courtyard. Before they exit, Herbert turns to face him and puts his back against the door. 

“I hope I don’t have to tell you that there would be no point in you’re trying to run?” He says the statement as though it were a question, his smile becoming just a little strained. 

“You don’t.” Alfred replies flatly. 

“Good.” Herbert’s entire frame relaxes. “It would really put a damper on things for us to have to keep discussing the unpleasant little details of...our arrangement.” 

“Even if I could outrun you, I wouldn’t make it very far in the forest on my own.” 

“Indeed not.” Herbert laughs as though Alfred’s just said something incredibly witty then turns and opens the door, holding it for Alfred as he did before. As soon as the door opens Alfred is instantly struck by bitter cold that his coat is not nearly enough to combat. Herbert seems confused as to why he’s not moving forward but then looks down at the offending garment and seems to understand. He removes his own cloak and walks toward Alfred. 

“No!” Alfred holds up his hands defensively. “I mean...I’m sure you need that.” 

“Not really.” Herbert shrugs. “I wear it mostly for aesthetics, the cold doesn't affect me anymore. Come now, it wouldn’t do to have you get sick.” 

Alfred hesitantly takes the cloak and wraps it around himself. The fact that it’s not any warmer from having been on Herbert than it would have been had it been hanging on a dressing dummy is no less unsettling for having been expected. It has a high collar and (since Herbert is considerably taller than him) trails on the ground behind him, Alfred thinks that he must look ridiculous in it. They start out into the snow, which isn’t as deep behind the castle as it was in front, and Alfred makes it a few yards before tripping on a fallen branch he hadn’t even seen. He barely has a chance to fall before Herbert catches him. 

“I forgot what poor night vision warm people have.” Herbert laughs gently, his mouth very close to Alfred’s ear. 

“My eyes just need to adjust.” Alfred scrambles away from the vampire for what feels like the hundredth time that night. Herbert takes his hand and leads him on without even waiting for a response. Herbert’s hand is the same temperature as the air around it but gets warmer the longer it’s in contact with Alfred’s. It doesn’t take long for them to reach the cemetery's looming wrought iron gates and by then Alfred is at least able to see vague shapes in the darkness. He thinks that the whole scene would be like something out of a gothic novel were it not for the fact that his escort is dressed all in candy pastels. 

The gate even emits an appropriate high pitched creak as Herbert opens it. The two of them slip through into a vast expanse of mounds dotted with statues and headstones with the occasional crypt scattered here or there. 

“Is one of these yours?” Alfred asks, trying to get some hint as to why they’re there. 

“Oh, no, vati and I sleep in the catacombs under the castle.” 

Alfred feels a twist of dread in the pit of his stomach at the realization that that means Herbert will eventually be taking him down into an underground maze full of corpses but he tries to keep his focus on the here and now...not that that provides him much comfort. He realizes he’s been steadily tightening his grip on Herbert’s hand since they entered the cemetery and compensates by letting go of it completely. 

“Are all of these the Graf’s family members?” 

“Of course, his and mine.” 

Something dawns on Alfred then that he feels stupid for not having realized sooner. 

“...you’re ACTUALLY his son?” 

“Did you think that we were lovers?” Herbert laughs as though it were some sort of inside joke but stops when Alfred only looks confused. “Apparently for a while a lot of people were under the mistaken impression that we were.” 

“Oh.” 

Is all Alfred can say as he wonders what exactly it says about Herbert that he finds a thing like that funny instead of repulsive. 

“But, yes, I was born here.” Herbert pushes on with conversation. “In the same bed where I was conceived and where vati was conceived and where his vati was probably conceived.” 

Herbert laughs again and this time Alfred does too just to keep the conversation from getting awkward. As they move through the cemetery and Alfred’s eyes adjust a little more, he begins to notice that most of the headstones have bits chipped off of them. Slowly, it dawns on him that the damage is all in places where crosses or other holy symbols would usually be. He wonders who the graf had do that and how long it took. It gives Alfred pause to see a larger structure loom up out of the darkness in front of him. 

“That’s the chapel.” Herbert explains, walking ahead of Alfred and then turning to face him. “They used to use it for funerals...would you like to see inside.” 

“Is that why you brought me out here?” 

“No but we have all night, it won’t hurt to take a detour.” Herbert opens the door and abruptly disappears inside. Alfred isn’t sure if he’s mean to follow so he stands in the doorway and awaits further instruction. Without the benefit of the moon and stars, it’s pitch black inside the chapel so he can’t make out what Herbert is doing but he hears some things being shifted around. Eventually a small flame flares to life at the front of the church and the tall candlesticks on either side of the altar are lit. In their golden light, Herbert could almost be mistaken for a living man and for some reason that effect causes a wholly unwelcome fluttering in the pit of Alfred’s stomach. He shakes it off and walks inside. 

He’s not surprised to see all the niches that would normally contain holy symbols empty. Some of the statues have even been decapitated and the stain glass has been shattered out of the high windows and replaced with planks of wood. Even despite it’s being defaced and having deteriorated from lack of maintenance, the chapel is beautiful. Alfred’s looking closely at the engravings on the ceiling, trying to make them out in the dim lighting, when he feels a hand on his shoulder. He jumps nearly a foot and turns to find Herbert behind him, standing just a little too close as usual. 

“You said that they used to use this place for funerals?” Alfred asks without thinking, still certain he wants to keep the vampire talking. “Was that something you actually remember or was it something your father told you about?” 

“I’ve never been to a funeral.” As usual Herbert creatively manages to answer his question without giving him any real information. Alfred feels himself getting frustrated but tries to smother it before it can grow. Anger is a luxury that he cannot afford under his present circumstances. 

“I don’t much care to go to one either.” Herbert goes on flippantly. “I hear they’re quite grim affairs. I wouldn’t mind going to a wedding though, since I suppose they’re the opposite of funerals...or would that be a birthday party?” 

I takes Alfred a moment to realize Herbert’s posing him an honest question and not just prattling, it’s always hard to tell with that vampire what’s rhetorical and what isn’t. 

“I’ve never really thought about it.” Is all Alfred can muster. 

“Herbert...how old are...I mean...how old WERE you when...” 

“When I was Born to Darkness?” 

“...yes.” 

“How old do I look?” 

Herberts tone is playfully contentious again and Alfreds irritation at his evasiveness must show on his face because the vampire goes on without waiting for an answer. 

“I was sixteen.” 

As if to signify that he doesn’t want to continue down this line of questioning, Herbert goes to stand in front of the altar and pretends to be absorbed in looking at large, headless statue behind it. Alfred guesses that it was once the Virgin Marry. Usually Alfreds natural inclination would be to let the subject drop but he suddenly finds himself fiercely curious. 

“He couldn’t have waited until you were done growing to do it?” Alfred really doesn’t mean to ask the question, it just sort of seeps out from between his lips. To a human it would have been difficult to make out but Herbert isn’t a human. Herbert doesn’t turn around but his frame visibly tenses and when he answers there’s a tension in his voice that sounds completely alien to Alfred compared to his usual, carefully flippant tone. 

“I don’t think he meant to do it at all.” 

He sounds hurt or..insulted and the fact that Alfred cannot even begin to guess why makes him certain he’s made a mistake. 

“I bet the windows were lovely.” He makes a grasping attempt to redirect the vampires attention and, naturally, it works. 

“Oh yes!” Herbert perks up immediately. “I can swear I remember seeing them in the sunglight but vati insists that I never would have.” 

“Maybe you saw some other stained glass windows...or pictures of them in books.” Alfred’s intention is to lead the conversation even further away from the Von Krolock patriarch and Herbert follows willing. 

“That must be it!” The vampire’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes and there’s just a little too much force behind the companionable hand he places on Alfred’s forearm. He shocks himself by taking that hand in his own and leading Herbert toward the door. 

“Not that this isn’t beautiful...but... I’m eager to see what you wanted to show me.” 

Herbert is predictably thrilled by Alfred voluntarily initiating physical contact for the first time and all traces of gloom disappear from his face. 

It’s only a few more minutes walk to reach their destination. Alfred isn’t surprised to find that it’s a grave but he is surprise to find that it’s a fresh grave with no marker. Herbert is genuinely puzzled by his lack of response and quickly explains. 

“It’s the old man.” 

“...Professor Abronsius?” 

“Was that his name?” Herbert start to giggle but imediately covers his mouth with his hand as if for once realizing that that’s an inappropriate reaction. 

“Yes.” He goes on. “You seemed so upset that I’d left him, so I went back and got him... I buried him here because vati doesn’t come out to this part of the cemetary very often. We can find a marker you like and you can come visit him whenever you want and say nice things to him and give him gifts.” 

Alfred doesn’t react because he’s genuinely at a loss for how he SHOULD react to someone doing him this sort of favor. This seems to worry Herbert, his brow creases just slightly. 

“That’s what warm people do with the dead...yes? You put them in the ground and visit them sometimes?” 

“Yes.” Alfred finally forces the words out because he HAS to say something. “Yes....uh...th-thankyou.” 

Herbert smiles again but there’s still hurt and confusion in his eyes and Alfred is unnerved by the degree to which it genuinely bothers him to see the vampire upset. 

“I’m sorry... I’m just...cold...and tired and...I’m not sure everything is healed yet... could we pleave go back inside?” 

Herbert’s expression flashes quickly from relief to concern. 

“Of course, Mon Cherie.” He coos soothingly, tucking his arm into Alfred’s. They walk, silently, arm in arm, back to the castle.

**Author's Note:**

> I will love you five-ever if you leave me a review.


End file.
